From my heart to yours
by girl orpheus
Summary: Baltar would destroy whole worlds for her.


**Title: **From my heart to you.  
**Author:** Alena Fryin  
**Summary:** "_I would destroy whole worlds for you." _  
**Pairing: **Six/Baltar  
**Disclaimer: **I own naught.  
**Rating: **PG

There is little else Gauis Baltar wants more than the chromatic angel who regularly visits him. 

He has long since come to accept Six will remain in the form of nerve impulses, and her physicality is not needed for Gauis to love her, might even detract from the selfless love they share, love so strong it defies the barriers put up by skin.

She is with him, always.

There is no one more perfect than she, but Six can only guide him to deliverance, not provide him with it. Six is the messenger, and she looks the part. Her hair is like feathers, windswept and so blindingly brilliant the strands appear white in the high contrast setting of his mental paradise. Six will lead him to God, and the salvation He offers Gauis will be complete.

Gauis doesn't love Caprica. He thought he would, wanted to believe he would. There she was, the first Six in all her glory, a small smile all but bleeding with promise hinged on her lips. He had tried. Through the haze of opiates and pills valiantly campaigning for the restoration of his normal serotonin level, he had tried to love the pretty piece of plastic reintroduced to him by either the will of the One God or a simple and ultimately ordinary coincidence. Gina's death was a punishment and perhaps Caprica's reappearance was as well. She looked like the angel, felt like her when his hands are knotted around shoulder and neck and thigh, but she was not. Caprica was, is corporeal, but he accepts now that he could never love her the way he loves his Six, agent of madness or else seraphim of the divinity who has carried him this far.

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" Six asks, a teasing lilt on her voice. She sits at one end of the lawn chair, legs folded in a style reminiscent of monks and sooth Sayers and locus flowers. Her straight-backed pose is one favored by the wise men of old. Her hands grip her ankles, fingers riding the line of tendons creeping down to her nude toes. The soles of her feet bear rings of calluses, but they too are lovely. 

"She's...boring," Gauis says, and laughs. His head hits the back of the lawn chair as he leans back and really, why did he pick a lawn chair of all the many articles of furniture cataloged in his mental library to hold these conversations on or else nearby? The doctor frowns. "She doesn't laugh at any of my jokes, you know."

"Is that what you want?" says Six. "A girl who will--"

"A girl who will quip with me, banter with me," Gauis interjects, eyes rolling up. The sky here is a blue whose color is mostly leeched by the brilliance of whatever imaginary star is benevolent enough lending its rays to them.

"You want a girl who will lead you through the dark, hold your hand as you walk through the shadows," Six says, hunching forward. Her cleavage is considerable, but Gauis finds himself less intent on possibilities exposed by the tantalizing swell of her bosom than in times past. She is the one who will carry him while simultaneously demanding action of his hands and the use of his voice as a catalyst for God's plans. The others...all their insistences were made for their own benefit.

His hands snakes across the plastic bars spanning the length of the chair, eliminating the space between them. Six releases one shapely ankle and Gauis twines his fingers in hers, binding them.

A ring is an imperfect circle, composed of fallible metal.

They need no ring.

"I want _you_," he says.

"You do because I'm that girl," says Six. is the ghost of what he can never have and he embraces it just as Six embraces _him_, arms curving around his waist, cheek meeting with his in a kiss of flesh whose intimacy would be lost on any observer not acquainted with the steps of their dance.

"I love you," Gauis says. "I'm weak and I'm foolish but I love you. I adore you, darling. I truly do." He puts his thumb to the plump swell of her lower lip and Six draws it into her mouth, sucking it with mitigated tenderness. The movement of her tongue is, on the whole, quite gentle save for the few nips she delivers on the digit's surface.

The doctor moans.

"Oh, how I love you. How I love you. I would do anything for you..." Eye to eye now, her pupils dilated, his shrinking, her bust to his chest, her knee slipping between his legs, something neither a laugh nor a cry adrift in his mouth. "Anything, darling. I would destroy whole worlds for you."

Six bares down on Gauis, allowing them to share a kiss fulfilling in its anguish and devotion. Love rises like a revolutionary in her throat, working past her teeth like carbonation.

It sings like a virus she can't dislodge from her system.

"You already have," she whispers.


End file.
